Enter Dorimant, who stares upon her.

Har. It passes on the easy town, who are favourably pleased in him to call it humour.

[Exeunt Young Bellair and Harriet.

Dor. ’Tis she! it must be she, that lovely hair, that easy shape, those wanton eyes, and all those melting charms about her mouth which Medley spoke of; I’ll follow the lottery, and put in for a prize with my friend Bellair.

[Exit Dorimant repeating: In love the victors from the vanquish’d fly; They fly that wound, and they pursue that die.

Enter Young Bellair and Harriet, and after them Dorimant, standing at a distance.

Y. Bell. Most people prefer High Park to this place.

Har. It has the better reputation, I confess; but I abominate the dull diversions there, the formal bows, the affected smiles, the silly by-words, and amorous tweers in passing; here one meets with a little conversation now and then.

Y. Bell. These conversations have been fatal to some of your sex, madam.

Har. It may be so; because some who want temper have been undone by gaming, must others who have it wholly deny themselves the pleasure of play?

Dor. Trust me, it were unreasonable, madam.

[Coming up gently, and bowing to her.

[She starts, and looks grave.

Har. Lord! who’s this?

Y. Bell. Dorimant.

Dor. Is this the woman your father would have you marry?

Y. Bell. It is.

Dor. Her name?

Y. Bell. Harriet.

Dor. I am not mistaken, she’s handsome.

Y. Bell. Talk to her, her wit is better than her face; we were wishing for you but now.

Dor. [to HARRIET]. Overcast with seriousness o’ the sudden! A thousand smiles were shining in that face but now; I never saw so quick a change of weather.

Har. [aside]. I feel as great a change within; but he shall never know it.

Dor. You were talking of play, madam; pray what may be your stint?

Har. A little harmless discourse in public walks, or at most an appointment in a box barefaced at the playhouse; you are for masks and private meetings where women engage for all they are worth, I hear.